The Peace War (28 page)

The precaution was unnecessary: She had not waited in ambush. Amidst the wailing of
far away sirens, Wili could hear her departing footsteps. Wili looking vainly down the
street in the direction of the sounds. She was out of sight, but he could track her down;
this was country he knew.

There was a scrabbling noise from the entrance to the bank. "Wait." It was Rosas, half
bent over, clutching his middle. "She won, Wili. She won." The words were choked,
almost voiceless.

The interruption was enough to make Wili pause and realize that Lu had indeed won.
She was hurt and unarmed, that was true. And with any luck, he could track her down in
minutes. But by then she would have signaled gun and troop copters; they were much
nearer than Mike had claimed.

She had won the Authority their own portable bobble generator.

And if Wili couldn't get far away in the next few minutes, the Authority would win
much more. For a long second, he stared at the Jonque. The undersheriff was standing a
bit straighter now, breathing at last, in great tormented gasps. He really should leave
Rosas here. It would divert the troopers for valuable minutes, might even insure Wili's
escape.

Mike looked back and seemed to realize what was going on his head. Finally Wili
stepped toward him. "C'mon. We'll get away from them yet."

In ten seconds the street was as empty as it had been all the years before.

The Jonque nobles believed him when Wili vouched for Mike. That was the second big
risk he took to get them home. The first had been in evading the Ndelante Ali; they had
walked out of the Basin on their own, had contacted the Alcalde's men directly. Not
many Jonques had made it out of the operation, and their reports were confused. But the
rescue was obviously a great success, so it wasn't hard to convince them that there had
been no betrayal. Such explanations might not have washed with the Ndelante; they
already distrusted Wili. And it was likely there were black survivors who had seen what
really happened.

In any case, Naismith wanted Wili back immediately, and the Jonques knew where
their hopes for continued survival lay. The two were on their way northward in a matter
of hours. It was not nearly so luxurious a trip as coming down. They traveled back roads
in camouflaged wagons, and balanced speed with caution. The Aztlán convoy knew it
was prey to a vigilant enemy.

It was night when they were deposited on a barely marked trail north of Ojai. Wili
listened to the sounds of the wagon and outriders fade into the lesser noises of the night.
They stood unspeaking for a minute after, the same silence that had been between them
through most of the last hours. Finally Wili shrugged and started up the dusty trail. It
would get them to the cabin of a Tinker sympathizer on the other side of the border. At
least one horse should be ready for them there.

He heard Mike close behind, but there was no talk. This was the first time they had
really been alone since the walk out of the Basin — and then it had been necessary to keep
very quiet. Yet even now, Rosas had nothing to say. "I'm not angry anymore, Mike." Wili
spoke in Spanish; he wanted to say exactly what he meant. "You didn't kill Jeremy; I
don't think you ever meant to hurt him. And you saved my life and probably Paul's when
you jumped Lu."

The other made a noncommittal grunt. Otherwise there was just the sound of his steps
in the dirt and the keening of insects in the dry underbrush. They went on another ten
meters before Wili abruptly stopped and turned on the other. "Damnation! Why won't
you talk? There is no one to hear but the hills and me. You have all the time in the
world."

"Okay, Wili, I'll talk." There was little expression in the voice, and Mike's face was
scarcely more than a shadow against the sky. "I don't know that it matters, but I'll talk."
They continued the winding path upward. "I did everything you thought, though it wasn't
for the Peacers and it wasn't for Della Lu... Have you heard of the Huachuca
plaguetime, Wili?"

He didn't wait for an answer but rambled on with a loose mixture of history — his own
and the world's. The Huachuca had been the last of the warplagues. It hadn't killed that
many in absolute numbers, perhaps a hundred million worldwide. But in 2015, that had
been one human being in five. "I was born at Fort Huachuca, Wili. I don't remember it.
We left when I was little. But before he died, my father told me a lot. He
knew
who
caused the plagues, and that's why he left." The Rosas family had not left Huachuca
because of the plague that bore its name. Death lapped all around the town, but that and
the earlier plagues seemed scarcely to affect it.

Mike's sisters were born after they left; they had sickened and slowly died. The family
had moved slowly north and west, from one dying town to the next. As in all the plagues,
there was great material wealth for the survivors — but in the desert, when a town died, so
did services that made further life possible. "My father left because he discovered the
secret of Huachuca, Wili. They were like the La Jolla group, only more arrogant. Father
was an orderly in their research hospital. He didn't have real technical training. Hell, he
was just a kid when the War and the early plagues hit." By that time, government warfare
— and the governments themselves — were nearly dead. The old military machinery was
too expensive to maintain. Any further state assaults on the Peace must be with cheaper
technologies. This was the story the Peacer histories told, but Mike's father had seen its
truth. He had seen shipments going to the places that were first to report the plague,
shipments that were postdated and later listed as medical supplies for the victims.

He even overheard a conversation, orders explicitly given. It was then he decided to
leave. "He was a good man, Wili, but maybe a coward, too. He should have tried to
expose the operation. He should have tried to convince the Peacers to kill those monsters.
And they were monsters, Wili. By the teens, everyone knew the governments were
finished. What Huachuca did was pure vengeance... I remember when the Authority
finally figured out where that plague came from. Father was still alive then, very sick
though. I was only six, but he had told me the story over and over. I couldn't understand
why he cried when I told him Huachuca had been bobbled; then I saw he was laughing,
too. People really do cry for joy, Wili. They really do."

To their left, the ground fell almost vertically. Wili could not see if the drop was two
meters or fifty. The Jonques had given him a night scope, but they'd told him its batteries
would run down in less than an hour. He was saving it for later. In any case, the path was
wide enough so that there was no real danger of falling. It followed the side of the hills,
winding back and forth, reaching higher and higher. From his memory of the maps, he
guessed they should soon reach the crest. Soon after that, they would be able to see the
cabin.

Mike was silent for along time, and Wili did not immediately reply. Six years old. Wili
remembered when he was six. If coincidence and foolhardy determination had not thrust
him into the truth, he would have gone through life convinced that Jonques had
kidnapped him from Uncle Sly, and that — with Sly gone — the Ndelante were his only
friends and defenders. Two years ago, he had learned better. The raid — yes, it had been
Jonque — but done at the secret request of the Ndelante. Ebenezer had been angered by the
unFaithful like Uncle Sly who used the water upstream from the Ndelante reservoir.
Besides, the Faithful were ready to move into Glendora, and they needed an outside
enemy to make their takeover easier. It worked the other way, too: Jonque commoners
without lords protector lived in constant fear of Ndelante raids.

Wili shrugged. It was not something he would say to Mike. Huachuca was probably
everything he thought. Still, Wili had infinite cynicism when it came to the alleged
motives of organizations.

Wili had seen treacheries big and small, organizational and personal. He knew Mike
believed all he said, that he'd done in La Jolla what he thought right, that he'd done it and
still tried to do the job of protecting Wili and Jeremy that he had been hired for.

The trail dipped, moved steadily downward. They were past the crest. Several hundred
meters further on, the scrub forest opened up a little, and they could look into small
valley. Wili motioned Mike down. He pulled the Jonque night scope from his pack and
looked across the valley. It was heavier than the glasses Red Arrow had loaned him, but
it had a magnifier, and it was easy to pick out the house and the trails that led in and out
of the valley.

There were no lights in the farmhouse. It might have been abandoned except that he
could see two horses m the corral. "These people aren't Tinkers, but they are friends,
Mike. I think it's safe. With those horses, we can get back to Paul in just a few days."

"What do you mean `we,' Wili? Haven't you been listening? I did betray you. I'm the
last person you should trust to know where Paul is."

"I listened. I know what you did, and why. That's more than I know about most people.
And there's nothing there about betraying Paul or the Tinkers. True?"

"Yes. The Peacers aren't the monsters the plaguemakers were, but they are an enemy.
I'll do most anything to stop them... only, I guess I couldn't kill Della. I almost came apart
when I thought she was dead back in the ruins; I couldn't try again."

Wili was silent a moment. "Okay. Maybe I couldn't either."

"It's still a crazy risk for you to take. I should be going to Santa Ynez."

"They'll likely know about you, Mike. We got out of L.A. just ahead of the news that
you ran with Delia. Your sheriff might still accept you, but none of the others, I'll bet.
Paul though, he needs another pair of strong hands; he may have to move fast. Bringing
you in is safer than calling the Tinkers and telling them where to send help."

More silence. Wili raised the scope and took one more look up and down the valley. He
felt Mike's hand on his shoulder. "Okay. But we tell Paul straight out about me, so he can
decide what to do with me."

The boy nodded. "And, Wili... thanks."

They stood and started into the valley. Wili suddenly found himself grinning. He felt so
proud. Not smug, just proud. For the first time in his life, he had been the strong shoulder
for someone else.

What Wili had missed most, even more than Paul and the Moraleses, was the processor
hookup. Now that he was back, he spent several hours every day in deep connect. Most
of the rest of the time he wore the connector. In discussions with Paul and Allison, it was
comforting to have those extra resources available, to feel the background programs
proceeding.

Even more, it brought him a feeling of safety.

And safety was something that had drained away, day by day. Six months ago, he had
thought the mansion perfectly hidden, so far away in the mountains, so artfully concealed
in the trees. That was before the Peacers started looking for them, and before Allison
Parker talked to him about aerial reconnaissance. For precious weeks the search had
centered in Northern California and Oregon, but now it had been expanded and spread
both south and east. Before, the only aircraft they ever saw was the L.A./Livermore
shuttle — and that was so far to the east, you had to know exactly where and when to look
to see a faint glint of silver.

Now they saw aircraft several times a week. The patterns sketched across the sky
formed a vast net — and they were the fish.

"All the camouflage in the world won't help, if they decide you're hiding in Middle
California," Mike's voice was tight with urgency. He walked across the veranda and
tugged at the green-and-brown shroud he and Bill Morales had hung over all the exposed
stonework and hard corners of the mansion. Gone were the days when they could sit out
by the pond and admire the far view.

Paul protested, "It's no ordinary camouflage, it-"

"I know it was a lot of work. You've told me Allison and the Moraleses spent two
weeks putting it together. I know she and Wili added a few electronic twists that make it
even better than it looks. But, Paul" — he sat down and glared at Paul, as if to persuade by
the force of his own conviction "they have other ways. They can interrogate del Norte —
or at least his subordinates. That will get them to Ojai. They've raided Red Arrow and
Santa Ynez and the market towns further north. Apparently the few people — like Kaladze
who really know your location have escaped. But no matter how many red herrings
you've dropped over the years, they're eventually going to narrow things down to this part
of the country."

"And there's Della Lu," said Allison.

Mike's eyes widened, and Wili could see that the comment had almost unhorsed him.
Then he seemed to realize that it was not a jibe. "Yes, there's Lu. I've always thought this
place must be closer to Santa Ynez than the other trading towns: I laid my share of red
herrings on Della. But she's very clever. She may figure it out. The point is this: In the
near future, they'll put the whole hunt on this part of California. It won't be just a plane
every other day. If they can spare the people, they might actually do ground sweeps."

"What are you suggesting, Mike?" Allison again.

"That we move. Take the big wagon, stuff it with all the equipment we need, and move.
If we study the search patterns and time it right, I think we could get out of Middle
California, maybe to some place in Nevada. We have to pick a place we can reach
without running into people on the way, and it has to be some ways from here; once they
find the mansion, they'll try to trace us... I know, it'll be risky, but it's our only chance if
we want to last more than another month."

Now it was Paul's turn to be upset. "Damn it, we can't move. Not now. Even if we could
bring all the important equipment which we can't — it would still be impossible. I can't
afford the time, Mike. The Tinkers need the improvements I'm sending out; they need
those bobble generators if they're going to fight back. If we take a month's vacation now,
the revolution will be lost. We'll be safe in some hole in Nevada-safe to watch everything
we've worked for go down the tubes." He thought a moment and came up with another
objection. "Hell, I bet we couldn't even keep in touch with the Tinkers afterwards. I've
spent years putting together untraceable communication links from here. A lot of it
depends on precise knowledge of local terrain and climate. Our comm would make us
sitting ducks if we moved."